


SFW Carol Denning Imagines

by Yuo



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-01 04:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15766236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuo/pseuds/Yuo
Summary: A collection of the lighter, fluffy requests from my Tumblr.





	1. Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at caroldenningg.tumblr.com for requests.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hi! Can I get carol being soft with her g? Present carol of course 

You stepped into Carol’s cell as another clap of thunder sounded over the prison. She looked up from her magazine. “Some storm, huh?” she asked, motioning for you to sit beside her. She sighed. “I used to love watching thunderstorms.”

“Really?”

She shrugged, reaching for a lollipop. “It’s cozy.”

You shook your head. “Not for me.”

“What, you scared of thunder or something?”

“No, not like that,” you replied. “It just… makes me nervous.”

“Aww,” Carol cooed, wrapping an arm around you. “Come here.” She cozied up against you.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence you spoke. “You ever think about creating a life outside of this place?”

“Nah,” replied Carol. “What’s the point when you’re going to die in here? I mean sure, sometimes I think about it. Wonder what kind of life I would have if I wasn’t stuck in here. But it’s just a fantasy, and it makes it all the more painful when I remember I can never have it.”

She sighed. “But you. You still have a chance to make something out of yourself. To do something better than sit and wait for the years to pass. Don’t you ever let go of it.”

“Let go of what?”

“Hope,” said Carol. More thunder rang out above.

“You’re right,” you said. “This is kind of cozy.”


	2. Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: will you write some soft carol? maybe shes jealous? not a pre established relationship.

Badison whooped loudly, causing everyone in the common area to stare. “Looks like we got some new cookies!” she shouted in her brash accent.

Carol looked up from her card game, annoyed. And that was when she saw her. Standing awkwardly in her bright orange uniform, dark eyes darting nervously around the room. Sure, she looked roughed up, sleep deprived, and scared, but what new cookie didn’t? There was an innocent, youthful quality to her face and Carol found herself unable to look away.

The new inmate met her gaze and Carol averted her eyes quickly, embarrassed at being caught staring. She was shocked at her own behavior. What was she doing? Carol Denning didn’t fucking stare. Still, she couldn’t help but watch the new cookie as she made her way to her assigned cell.

Another inmate, a C-block regular, approached the girl. Her face lit up, they exchanged a few inaudible words and then embraced each other tightly. Of course she had a girlfriend, Carol thought, a tinge of disappointment washing over her. Perhaps it was for the best. Things were heating up with D-block and a schoolgirl crush would surely get in the way. With a sharp whistle, Carol summoned her lackeys back over and resumed her card game.

——

Incredibly practiced at ignoring Badison’s antics, Carol tuned out her grating voice as she shuffled the deck of cards.

“Give it back!” shouted a voice.

“Aww, you scared?” taunted Badison.

“Give me my fucking toothbrush!”

“Is the wittle cookie gonna crwumble?” she mocked.

The baby voice did it for her. Carol looked up to see Badison holding a cosmetic bag high out of the new girl’s reach. Anger suddenly welled up in her. “Badison!” shouted Carol, her voice cracking, internally cringing at how loud she was. “Knock it off.”

Badison looked deflated. “Sorry,” she said, turning away. The girl mouthed “thank you” to Carol, who tried her very best not to blush. This was getting embarrassing.

——

A knock on her cell door roused Carol from her afternoon nap. It was the new inmate. “Can I come in?” she asked. Carol nodded. “I’m Sanchez,” she said, crossing over to Carol’s bunk and handing her a shampoo bottle.

“What’s this?” asked Carol.

“Call it a thank you gift,” replied Sanchez. “For what you did earlier.”

“Thanks, but I make my own hooch.”

Sanchez shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Good hooch is good hooch.”

“Why are you here?” asked Carol. “It looks like you already have a prison mommy.”

Sanchez looked confused. “Oh, you mean Turner?” She laughed. Loud, grating. It should have annoyed Carol and yet… it didn’t. “We went to high school together! That’s all.”

“Oh,” said Carol.

“Why? Are you jealous?” she smirked. Carol’s face remained impassive.

“I like you. That’s all.” Their eyes met and Sanchez winked.

“I like you too, Carol.”


	3. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Giving carol a neck massage while she’s playing cards?

You sat in the common area, nose buried in a poorly written fantasy novel. Good books were hard to come by in max, but at least this one kept you mildly entertained.

Carol’s voice cut like a knife across the hubbub of the inmates. “[Y/N]! Get over here.” Your head snapped up. Was she talking to you? The truth was, the older woman fascinated you. You had been trying to get closer to her circle for weeks but your efforts had gone largely unnoticed (or not reciprocated, for that matter). Recently you had resigned yourself to the fact that Carol simply did not, or would not, bother to notice you. Perhaps it was for the best, you had thought. Getting involved with the kingpin would surely be nothing but trouble.

But here she was, clearly calling your name. You rose on shaky legs and made your way over to her table. None of the other women made any move to allow you a space to sit with them. Carol laid her cards on the table and looked up at you. She grimaced and rubbed her neck. “I’m feeling a little stiff,” she said, a smirk playing across her features. “Thought maybe you could help me out.”

You stared at her, shocked and confused. “You mean you want me to-”

“I’m not asking,” she snapped, her face turning cold and impassive. “I’m telling.”

Slowly, nervously, you moved to stand behind her. Almost hesitant to touch the infallible woman, you gingerly brushed her mane of teased hair out of the way. You placed your hands on the soft, exposed skin where her neck met her shoulders and began to gently squeeze. Carol wasn’t lying - she really was stiff. All the stress of running C-block had to go somewhere, right?

She sighed appreciatively as your fingers worked out a particularly stubborn knot, but otherwise paid you no attention, focusing on her game of bridge. The other inmates watched you closely as you continued the massage. This was clearly unprecedented.

After several minutes of intense work, your hands began to grow tired. But Carol clearly had no intentions of telling you to stop. You worked your hands up the back of her neck, gently kneading the tense muscle you found there.

Silently, Carol reached up and brushed your hands away, fixing her hair back in place. She turned to look at you. Was that a hint of a smile on her face?

“Keep that up, and you might just earn a spot at my table someday,” she smirked.


	4. Facade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Carol X reader where reader is like kinda insane and doesn't properly understand social cues so she doesn't care that carols like the big bad boss and just constantly wants to chill with her and carol secretly loves it?

You had always been out of the ordinary. It was a reality you had come to accept - as, perhaps in a cruelly ironic way, attempting to conform only caused you to stand out more. Your differences weren’t unnoticed - you had been harassed, poked, and prodded your entire life - that is, until you cracked. Your breaking point was an incident of massive proportion, in fact, it was what had landed you in here. But that is another story for another time.

You were slowly introduced to the other residents of C-Block - some apathetic and bored, some angry and provocative, and some just as quirky and odd as you are. But the one who intrigued you the most was Carol Denning. Was it the attitude? The oversized glasses? Her big 80s hair? You didn’t know - all you knew was that you wanted to get closer to her.

Carol raised her eyebrows as you approached her table, but the challenging, threatening intent of her gesture was lost on you. “I’m sorry, who are you?” she demanded.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said cheerfully. “I just got transferred here. Can I join your card game?” Carol looked taken aback. No one had ever approached her so confidently in decades. “You’re playing bridge, right?”

“I- yes. We’re playing bridge,” stammered Carol, struggling to maintain her facade. “What makes you think you can just walk in here?”

“What?” you asked, confused. “I’m really good at bridge.”

Carol regarded you carefully, a smirk spreading across her face. “Okay,” she said, nodding. “Let’s see what you got. Move, Brock.” One of the inmates at the table scurried off, and she offered the open seat to you.

The game resumed, and you found you could easily keep up with the rest of Carol’s group. You watched her unwrap a lollipop. “Do you like candy? I like candy too,” you said.

“Mmm hmm,” said Carol, tucking the lollipop into her cheek. The truth was, you scared her. The cold, unshakeable front she had spent decades creating had just crumbled into dust, destroyed by your chipper eagerness.

But it was lonely at the top. Her indifferent, closed off affectation left little room to socialize, never mind the possibility of ever making friends. Perhaps the idea of pleasant, cheerful company wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Carol shuffled the cards. “Another round?”


	5. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: this is so cheesy but what if like, c-block threw a sort of dance/homecoming for fun (probs chapman’s idea or something) and everyone’s out in the common area enjoying themselves and dancing, except for Carol. And finally you have to gently coax her out but she’s still super insecure bc she “doesn’t dance” and probs has never been to an actual dance

The common area buzzed with activity as the inmates busied themselves with hanging crude, handmade decorations. For once the atmosphere was peaceful; the usual tension occurring in C-Block seemingly dissipated. You had to admit, it looked nice. Well, as nice as Valentine’s Day in prison could look.

As the festivities began, every inmate left their cells to join in, even the more antisocial ones. Well, almost every inmate. You looked around, trying to find Carol but she was nowhere in sight.

You found her in her cell, curled up with a lollipop and a magazine. “C’mon, Carol! Don’t you want to join the fun?”

Carol scoffed. “No, thanks.”

You drew closer to her. “Don’t you want to dance with me?” you pouted. She gave you her pointed “don’t go there” look in return. “I’m your girlfriend,” you smirked, reaching for her hand and attempting, albeit unsuccessfully, to pull her to her feet. “That means we have to do girlfriend things together.”

Carol pulled her hand away, looking upset - an emotion that rarely showed on her features. “Because,” she snapped, “if we do girlfriend things together, then people will  _know_.”

“Know what?”

“Know about me. With women. What I am,” huffed Carol. “What will they say? What will Barb say?”

“You’re the boss,” you reminded her. “They’ll say what you’ll tell ‘em to say. Where’s the big, bad, not-scared-of-anything Carol Denning I love so much?”

Carol looked defeated. “I’m a terrible dancer,” she said. “I don’t dance.”

You took her hand again. “We’re going to go out there, and we’re going to have a good time, okay?” Hesitantly, Carol nodded and got to her feet, allowing you to guide her into the common area.

You led her right into the middle of the crowd and began to sway to the music, your hands placed gently around your waist. Carol sighed deeply, then leaned in close. “I love you,” she whispered.


	6. Christmas Carol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:   
> It’d be so cute if like it was Carols birthday or Christmas and Carol hates those days because basically her parents always gave her shit gifts and never thought about her so when her prison girlfriend makes an effort to get her something really thoughtful that Carol would really want it’s cute and touching

Carol Denning didn’t celebrate Christmas. And she let everyone know it, too. If you asked her why, she’d probably spout something about how the festive cheer was useless in prison anyway - what with the lack of friends, family, trees and snow - and be on her (not so) merry way.

But it ran deeper than that. Too many times had she gotten excited for the holidays, only to have her spirits crushed as all the attention was focused on Debbie. The youngest Denning always received the best gifts, their parents shopping right up until Christmas Eve in order to find everything listed on little Debbie’s letter to Santa.

Carol’s gifts were always afterthoughts, meaningless, cheap things she never asked for in the first place. If not to save face in front of her extended family, she doubted her parents would have gotten her anything at all.

Desperate to avoid the prison’s pitiful imitation of festivity, Carol had spent the day in her cell. And that was where you found her, laying on her bed, moping.

“Hey,” you called, stepping into her cell.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the shampoo bottle in your hand.

“Hooch. The really good shit, I got it from Sanchez. Come on, it’s Christmas! Have a drink.” You offered her the bottle.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she groaned, but reached for the drink anyway. She sighed. “That is good shit.”

You grinned. “I got you a little something.”

Carol glared. “I fucking told you, I don’t-“

“You don’t do Christmas. Yeah. I know. But those people,” you leaned in close, “those people didn’t care about you. I do. Let me make it up to you.”

She scoffed. “You’d be about 40 years too late.”

You pulled out her gift, a fresh pack of Marlboro reds, out of your waistband. “Will this shut you up?”

Carol snatched the pack from you. “Holy shit, is this even real?” She flipped it open, inhaling the long forgotten aroma of fresh tobacco. “How’d you get these? I’m serious, what did you do?”

“I didn’t suck anyone’s dick, if that’s what you’re implying.”

——-  
Later, you sat together in the empty showers under the watchful eye of Hellman, who had agreed to give you ten minutes with the promise of a little extra cash. Carol giggled excitedly as she exhaled the first puff.

You gave her a pointed look, taking a drag on your own cigarette. “Merry Christmas.”

She smiled. “Merry Christmas.”


	7. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: could you write some young!Carol and a random inmate being fluffy in the library hideout?

The loud slamming noise and angry shout made the girl startle. “God!” shouted Carol, storming into the secret corner of the library. “I’m going to strangle that bitch!”

 

“Barb again?” asked the girl sympathetically. 

“Who do you think?” snapped Carol, slamming her palm against the wall. 

“Well, I’d like it if you didn’t take it out on me,” the girl folded her arms. 

Carol sighed. “You know I don’t mean to, Jane. I just… ugh!” 

Jane reached for Carol, pulling her down next to her. She patted her shoulder comfortingly. “Shh. Forget about her. I got you something,” she pulled a bag of jawbreakers out from under a pillow. Carol’s eyes lit up. 

“Aww, you’re the best!” she eagerly unwrapped one and popped it into her cheek. 

“What’s she done this time?” asked Jane, lighting a cigarette. 

“Does it even matter?” said Carol around the jawbreaker. 

“You have to stop letting her push your buttons,” soothed Jane. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t have siblings, so shut the fuck up.” 

“Carol!” 

“I know! I know! I’m sorry!” Carol reached for Jane’s cigarette. “Give me that.” She took a long drag and exhaled slowly, the smoke floating around their heads. “You know you’re my favorite, right?” She reached out to feel a lock of Jane’s hair. 

She gave a small smile. “I know.”   
  


Carol pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Don’t you ever change.”


	8. Facade (part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: I need more socially unaware reader x carol pleeease 

After triumphing at one of Carol’s famous bridge tournaments, you had earned a spot as one of her regulars at the table. You enjoyed the attention you received from the older woman - she was always peering at you curiously, as if you were a continuing source of amusement to her.

Carol slapped her cards on the table, making you startle. She cackled furiously. “I guess you win again, [Y/N]. Jesus, how did you get so good at this?”

You shrugged. “My parents taught me growing up. I always-“

Carol held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” She turned. “You find anything good, Badison?”

Badison smirked. “Yeah, I got something good. Sanchez told me that Callahan told her that the lady who works in the laundry - you know her? The one with the fucked up teeth?”

Carol rolled her eyes. “You mean Rogers?”

“Yeah. Anyway, she swears she overheard Barb’s crew talking about attacking you.” Badison grinned, pleased at her detective work.

Carol scoffed. “You call this good? She’s a fuckin’ junkie, what does she know?”

Badison’s face fell. “Sorry. Thought you’d wanna know.”

Carol dealt a new hand, then realized Badison was still standing beside her. “What are you waiting for? Beat it.”

———

You were always aware when someone was watching you. It was a natural talent that could only develop with years of garnering unwanted attention.

And right now, two pairs of D-Block janitorial crew eyes were firmly planted on you and Carol. They watched you intently for a moment, then leaned in close to whisper to each other, their cleaning equipment forgotten.

“Carol?” you asked nervously. She turned to you.

“Hmm?”

“Why are they watching us like that?”

Carol’s brows knit in worry. “I don’t know. Come with me,” she said, tossing her cards on the table and standing.

She led you silently into the hallway, giving a short nod to Hellman as you passed. “What was that?” you asked.

“What?”

“The nod.”

“I was letting him know where we were going,” said Carol. “I pay him off.”

“Oh.” You laughed. “That makes sense.” The look of vague amusement return to Carol’s face.

You reached a door marked “restricted access”.

“Wait here,” said Carol.

“What are you doing?”

“Retrieving a weapon,” she replied. “Badison was right. D-Block is watching us.” She slipped into the closet, closing the door behind her.

A few moments later, the two D-Block inmates who had spotted you in the common area rounded the corner. “Whatcha doin?” asked the taller of the pair, stepping in uncomfortably close. You shrugged. “Aww, are you lost?” she mocked.

“You’re Carol’s bitch, aren’t you?” taunted the other.

“Oh, no,” you explained. “We just play cards together.” The inmates laughed loudly. “What?”

Carol emerged swiftly from the closet, a shiv clutched in each hand. “Get away from her,” she growled, advancing swiftly on them. The inmates turned and ran, Carol shouting something incoherently about Barb after them.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, shaken.

“Don’t mention it, kid,” she smirked.


	9. Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: please hit us with soft present!carol x reader so i can weep

“What do you mean you’re moving away?” you demanded, gripping the phone tightly. You were stunned. “You’re still going to come visit me right?”

On the other side of the glass, your mother looked sad and deflated. “I’m sorry, [Y/N], but this family needs some space.”

“Space? Space from what, me? Your felon, fuck-up daughter?”

Your mother held back tears. “I’m sorry,” she choked. Too ashamed to look you in the eye, she hung up and slinked out of the visitation room.

A tide of emotions flushed over you as you walked back to C-Block. Rage. Despair. Agony. It was if all the color in the world had been drained away.

In a daze, you managed to reach Carol’s cell. The smile that lit up her face when you walked into the room should have made you feel warm and safe; instead, it slid right off you as if you were a blank, cold wall. “What’s wrong?” she asked, a cheerful tone still in her voice.

Hearing the question broke something in you and you burst into tears. “Oh!” gasped Carol, rushing over to you. “Come here,” she said softly, leading you back to her bunk. She wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close. “What is it?”

“I’m being,” you sniffled, “I’m being cut off from my family. I just found out.” You sobbed harder.

“Shh,” she soothed, rubbing circles on your back. “I’m here. I got you.”

“I just- I can’t believe she would do that!”

“I know what it’s like,” said Carol sympathetically. “But we have each other now. You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m going to be ok.” you said it with conviction, as if that would make it true.

Carol reached for something under her pillow. “Do you want a lollipop?”


	10. Fatigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:   
> Imagine falling asleep on carol while she’s playing cards? X

Nothing could ruin your sleep cycle so mercilessly effectively like a good stint in Ad-Seg. All you could think about was the nap you were about to take, blissfully out of reach of the 24-hour fluorescent lighting, as the guards marched you back to C-Block. Your eyes felt puffy from fatigue and you could hardly hold them open. 

 

You made a beeline to your cell, but one of Carol’s lackeys intercepted you first. “Come,” she jerked her head to where Carol was hosting a card game. You desperately longed for a nap, but you also wanted her to be in a good mood for your first night reunited. Groaning, you agreed, and followed her to the table. 

 

Taking your usual seat beside Carol, you yawned loudly. “Sorry,” you said. “I feel like shit.”

 

“You look like shit,” said Carol. 

 

You mustered up the energy for a weak chuckle. She dealt the cards. “Carol, are we playing bridge? You know I don’t know how to play bridge.” 

 

“Thought I’d teach ya,” she smiled. 

 

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think I have the capacity to learn  _ anything  _ right now,” you replied. 

 

“C’mere,” she leaned closer. “Let’s look at your hand, here.” Sighing, you allowed Carol to look at your cards, barely listening to her explanation of the suits and how they ranked. Somewhere, deep in your mind, you were aware of just how close she was pressed to you. No matter what went on behind closed (cell) doors, Carol always made sure to keep a wide radius of personal space in public. You yawned again. She felt so warm against you… 

 

Carol continued her enthusiastic explanation of the game, only pausing for a moment as she felt you rest more of your weight against her. “So that means that this is the highest ranking card, right?” She looked at your restful face. “Right?” She nudged your unresponsive form. “Jesus Christ, are you fucking sleeping, [Y/N]?” She chuckled in disbelief.

 

Something softened in her as she gazed down at you. Perhaps it was the pleasantness of human closeness, or the fact that you trusted her enough to  _ fall asleep on her,  _ but Carol was hesitant to wake you. That is, until she realized all eyes at the table were on her. One of the inmates laughed nervously.

 

She shook you awake. “What are you fucking looking at?” Carol addressed the table. She nodded. “Your turn, Brock.” 

  
  



	11. Pretty Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:
> 
> Carol drawing you without you knowing until you find her notebook? X

Going through Carol’s belongings was a bad idea. You knew that from the start. But she had been acting strangely in the last few weeks and you were dying to know why. She was busy out in the yard - it was the perfect time to search for clues. **  
**

She had developed a new habit of watching you from a distance. Part of you wondered if it was because you were in danger. Rarely were you invited to play at her card games anymore; instead you sat in the opposite corner of the common area. Occasionally you would glance up and see her observing you. She would give you a stern look, as if was your fault she was caught staring, and resume her business.

You flipped through the various piles of junk on her shelf. Old magazines. Incomplete decks of playing cards. Lollipop wrappers. Underneath everything, you discovered a worn spiral-bound book. Carol had mentioned her passion for drawing in her high school days you in passing, but she insisted she no longer possessed the artistic gene.

You gave a small shout of surprise as someone grabbed your arm. “What the fuck are you doing?” demanded Carol. You wrenched out of her grip, dodging her and scurrying to the other side of the cell, notebook still in hand. Carol advanced on you. “Will you give that back?” Hurriedly, you flipped open the cover.

A gasp escaped from your lips as you discovered the contents of the book. Portraits of you, smiling, laughing, reading your book. “Give it!” shouted Carol, snatching it away.

“Carol, you drew me?” you said, surprised.

“Yeah?” she shrugged defensively, her face bright red. “What? So what, huh?”

“Carol-” you started.

“Yeah, I’m a fuckin’ weirdo. I know.”

“Carol, I love them!” You gently tugged the notebook back from her, flipping through the pages. “Look! It’s us together!”

  
A relieved smile spread over Carol’s face. “You like them?”  
  


“I had no idea you were this talented!” You laughed. “These are amazing!”

“Guess I just like staring at your pretty face,” said Carol.


	12. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> young!carol being protective af over her girl when she’s put in danger? (I love your writing btw)

Barb had a field day when she had found out about you and Carol. She wasted no time in spreading the news of Carol’s recently discovered sapphic persuasion around the prison, delighting as a select few taunted her for it. **  
**

But it wasn’t the mocking that had Carol upset - she had learned by now how to swallow her pride when it came to Barb pushing her buttons. It was because you were now a target - a very effective way to mess with Carol.

She had gone into defensive mode right away, using no small number of owed favors with the guards to get you transferred to her cell. While you got on each other’s nerves on occasion, being able to fall asleep by her side was amazing. Carol always held you tightly throughout the night, fiercely protective of you even in sleep.

But lately she had kicked it up a notch. “I’m just going to the shower,” you protested. “I’ll be fine.”

“You kiddin’? Shower is where you’re the most vulnerable. I’m sending Turner with you.”

“Oh, come on,” you groaned. “Nothing will happen.”

Carol pouted at you. “Please? I just want you to be safe, baby.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, Carol.”

——

Things had picked up as autumn drew nearer. D-Block now openly chided you when your paths crossed, instead of talking about you behind your back. Some went as far as to mime the throat-cutting motion as they passed you in the hallway. All this made Carol very upset, of course, and she had developed a habit of shoving herself in front of you whenever any potentially threatening inmates came your way.

But a more pressing concern was on the horizon - the last kickball game of the season. The perfect opportunity for fighting to happen. As soon as the date was announced, Carol began pacing nervously. “I can’t let you go out there,” she muttered.

You sighed. “Really, Carol? You can’t just lock me away for my own protection.”

“I think it’s actually the COs who lock us away for our own protection,” she laughed.

“I’m serious. I want to play kickball with everyone else.”

  
Carol looked troubled. She sat down next to you and reached for your hand. “I can’t let anything happen to you,” she whispered. She took a deep breath. “Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you. Not in the slightest. But you’re mine. And it’s the most amazing thing and I-” her eyes brimmed with tears. “I can’t bear the thought of you being in constant danger in here.”

You were touched by her sincerity. “You’re in danger all the time too,” you remind. “You’re right in the middle of everything. How do you think I feel?”

  
“Oh,” said Carol simply. “I guess I didn’t think about it that way.”

“What if I faked an injury? Got sent to medical so I’m not out there on the field?” you suggested.

  
Carol’s face lit up. “You would do that?”  
  


“If it makes you feel better.”

She threw her arms around you, embracing you tightly. “I don’t ever want to let you go,” she whispered in your ear.


	13. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Present day little spoon Carol??

Sighing, you looked up from your book only to discover Carol was staring at you from across the common area. As you met her eye, she gave you a small smile around the lollipop stick protruding from her mouth, that widened into a knowing, saucy smirk.  _ That couldn’t be good. _

 

You raised your eyebrows, as if to ask “what?”. Carol dropped your gaze, sorting through the cards in her hand, although the smirk remained etched upon her face. Brow furrowed, you returned to your reading. 

 

“[Y/N]!” shouted a CO. You startled. “Relax.” he chuckled. “You’re just getting reassigned to another cell. You’re in C108 now.” 

 

“But isn’t that-”

 

“Denning’s cell,” he confirmed. “Yeah, she was the one who requested it. God knows what she wants with you but,” he patted you firmly on the back, “good luck, inmate.” 

 

In disbelief, you slowly stood and walked towards Carol’s cell. You paused at the door, before it occurred to you that it was also now  _ your _ cell, and you didn’t have to worry about getting Carol’s permission to enter it. You looked around the tiny room. She kept things neat and tidy, but the cell was still distinctly  _ hers _ , from the stack of magazines in the corner to the bag of lollipops sitting on the shelf. 

 

“You like it?” asked Carol, making you gasp as she snuck up behind you. 

 

“Carol, I don’t know what to say,” you stammered. “You really want me to be your roommate?”

 

“Think about it!” she exclaimed excitedly. “After lights-out, lockdowns… we can spend every hour together!” Carol noted the expression on your face. “If-if you want to. Um, we can do other stuff too.”

 

You laughed. “Of course I want to!”

 

\-----

 

Carol continued her long, winding story about a dramatic event that had happened decades ago at her high school as you brushed your teeth. “And then…” she paused for dramatic effect as you rinsed and spit, “everyone found out it was  _ Barb’s _ boyfriend who hooked up with her!” 

 

“Huh,” you said plainly, at a loss for words. “I mean, yeah, that must have been really humiliating for her.”

Carol cackled gleefully. “It was!” You tossed your cosmetic bag on the top bunk and climbed up after it. “Oh,” she said, disappointment in her tone.

 

“What?”

 

“I just- you’re gonna sleep up there?” she complained.

 

“You wanted the bottom bunk, right?” 

 

“I just thought, with us being in the same cell and all, we’d-” Carol stopped talking. 

  
“We’d what?” You peered over the edge of the bunk. Carol remained silent. A smile spread over your face. “We’d what, Carol?”

 

She groaned. “You’re gonna fuckin’ make me say it?” You giggled. “Fine. Cuddle. I thought we’d cuddle.” 

 

You hopped down from the top bunk and squeezed onto the bed next to her. “Uh-uh,” she said, gently shoving you away. “I sleep on the outside edge.” 

 

Annoyed, as you had already gotten comfortable under the covers, you rolled your eyes. “Why?”

 

“Inside edge is the most vulnerable. You can’t escape, you don’t have room to fight back if you’re attacked in your sleep,” explained Carol. 

 

“Is someone going to try to hurt us?” you asked, concerned. 

 

“Well, no, I don’t think so, but… I’m just sayin’.” You settled into the inside edge of the tiny twin mattress, your back pressed against the wall. Carol peered over at you, and you were struck by how soft and fair she looked without her huge glasses. Yawning, she turned onto her side, facing away from you. 

 

“Aww, Carol-” you started. 

 

“Yes, I want to be the little spoon. Just shut up and do it,” she sighed. Grinning, you looped your arm around her trim waist. She relaxed into you. “Mmm. This is nice,” she whispered. “I’ve always wanted to do this. Fall asleep next to someone.”

 

“And now you can,” you affirmed softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

 

“And now I can,” she echoed.


	14. Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:
> 
> um, so Carols girlfriend finds out she has a tramp stamp? like a dolphin or something girly and teases her about it till Carol decides to shut her up?

**Anonymous**  asked:

um, so Carols girlfriend finds out she has a tramp stamp? like a dolphin or something girly and teases her about it till Carol decides to shut her up?

omg I love this

And it’s short. Again. But it’s been hard writing lately and I’m trying to ease back in. 

——

It was a mystery to you how you had evidently never seen Carol’s lower back before.

Well, it wasn’t a terribly difficult mystery to figure out. The close quarters of prison ensured that any trysts were fumbled, hidden, rushed encounters, usually in the empty showers or utility closets. Taking off all your clothes was just wasting time.

But then, while getting ready for bed, she had bent over to pick something up off the floor and you had seen it. Right there, just above her waistband - a little dolphin surrounded by lurid hibiscus flowers. “What is that!?” you cackled.

“What’s what? Oh, fuck,” she exclaimed, hurriedly pulling her shirt back down to cover the embarrassing tattoo. “Don’t even,” she warned, noting the gleeful grin on your face.

“Come on, you at least have to tell me the story! When did you get it?”  
  


“Before prison,” sighed Carol.

“But you weren’t eighteen.”

“We went on vacation, okay? Mom and dad were at this wine tasting, and the tattoo parlor was right across the street from the hotel. Barb got one too. A fish.”

“Did your parents find out?”

“Of course they did. We didn’t think about the fact that we’d have to wear swimsuits for the rest of the vacation,” she chuckled. “I was grounded for a month when we got back.”

You laughed harder. “I can’t believe you have a tramp stamp. It’s so… fucking girly.”

Carol flashed you her trademark look. “If you tell anyone about this…”

“Can you imagine if Badison found out!?” You fell back on the bed in peals of laughter. “Let me see it again,” you pulled at the hem of her shirt.

“No!” protested Carol, but you had already yanked the material up. She clapped a hand over the tattoo so you couldn’t study it up close and batted your reaching hands away. “If anyone finds out about this, anyone…”

“I know, I know. You’ll kill me or whatever.” You looked especially thoughtful. “Except… I don’t think you will.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I think you love me too much to kill me.”

“Well,” Carol smirked, stepping forward. She pressed her lips to yours. “Maybe I got other ways of making you shut up.”


	15. Flu Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:
> 
> Carol gets sick and her girlfriend takes care of her?

No time of year was as widely feared by the inmate population as flu season was. The painfully close quarters ensured that no one was left untouched by the virus that swept the prison annually. Both the tough and the weak fell ill - nature didn’t play favorites.

Carol was of course one of those affected. You swept into the room with a cup of fresh coffee. “It’s not tea, but it’ll do,” you said cheerily. She shifted slightly under her nest of blankets, scowling. “I told you all that sugar was bad for your immune system.”

Too weak to even muster a snarky comeback, Carol reached out eagerly for the cup of coffee. “My throat hurts so bad,” she croaked, taking a small sip of the hot liquid.

“What if it’s strep?” you asked, concerned. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“They’re not going to see me if it’s just about the cold,” she sniffled. “Trust me. It’s fine. It happens-”

“Every year. I know,” you interrupt. “So how come I haven’t gotten sick yet?”

“You will,” said Carol determinedly. “Especially if you keep hovering around me like that.”

Ignoring her comment, you pressed your hand against her forehead. “You feel hot,” you said, wetting a washcloth and ringing it out over the sink. She groaned as you applied it to her feverish face.

“Can you stop!?” she complained. “Just leave me alone.”

“I know you want to just curl up in a dark cave until you’re better, but you’ll get better faster if you do what I say,” you patted her leg through the blanket. “Don’t you want to get back on your feet?”

“Yeah, no shit,” said Carol. “But you’re not making me drink that gross lemon thing again, are you?”

“Vitamin C. It’s good for you.” Carol rolled her eyes. “Here’s something that will cheer you up - I hear Barb is even sicker.” She perked up slightly at the news. “I brought you some magazines.”

As Carol flipped through one, she looked up and smiled. “Thanks for doing this. I know I’m cranky.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.”

“Come on, I’m trying to be _nice_.”


	16. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:
> 
> reader is sick or injured and carol takes care of her?? young carol please

You groaned as you repositioned the ice pack on your face, hissing as it pressed against bruised skin and open cuts. You longed for some painkillers, but as usual the prison doctors were being stingy with them. Settling back onto the pillows, you groaned as you waited patiently for the throbbing pain to subside.

“[Y/N]?” called Carol, rushing into your cell. She gasped as her eyes fell onto your injured face. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“D-Block,” you said plainly. Her jaw tightened at the words. “I was alone in the library. They ambushed and jumped me. If you know why, I’d love to hear it.”

“They’re angry,” shrugged Carol.

“They’re always angry,” you snapped.

She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You’re not the one who bashed my face in.”

“No, I-” Carol looked worried. “I should have been there to protect you. You shouldn’t have been alone.”

You scoffed. “I can handle myself.”

She gestured to your swollen, bleeding face. “Sure…” You rolled your eyes. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised. “Here,” Carol pulled a jawbreaker from her pocket. You took the candy. Not that you cared for jawbreakers - you had almost cracked a tooth on them multiple times - but it was a reassuring thing to have, knowing it was a token of Carol’s concern.   
  
Carol wet a cloth in the sink, then sat gently beside you on the bed. Gingerly, she pressed it to the still-oozing cuts, wiping away the blood. “This one looks really deep.”

“Looks worse than it is,” you shrugged. “Doctor said it didn’t need stitches.”

“I hate to see you hurt,” whispered Carol as she continued tending to your wounds.

“I’ll live.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I really am.”

“Carol,” you protested, “it’s fine!”

“No, don’t you see? I could have stopped this! I could have protected you, but I didn’t.”  
“I can handle myself,” you said. “You don’t need to protect me.”

Carol tenderly wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close. “Yes, I do,” she whispered in your ear.


	17. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:
> 
> Hi! Can you do a fluffy carol fic where she treats all the inmates with her usual hateful self, but turns into a completely different person whenever she is with the reader who she loves and treaats her completely differently? Like shes constantly making everyone fear her with her actions and reputation but once shes with the reader, especially in the cell, she only wants to give love to her and make her happy? Thanks xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m not quite sure about what I’ve written here. It started out plot-based but turned into more of a character study. It’s probably not exactly what you had envisioned but I figured I’d post it anyway.
> 
> —-

“I need your help,” said Carol, stepping into your cell.

Her request took you by surprise - asking for help was an admission of weakness, of inability to do it yourself. Not that asking for help was inherently negative, but it required some amount of humility. The kind, that up until now, you were absolutely sure Carol did not possess.

“With what?” you asked, your surprise painfully evident in your voice.

Carol evidently sensed it. “Reznikov,” she huffed, adjusting her glasses. “Let’s just say… she said something she shouldn’t have.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. Well, hopefully. I wanted to have a little chat with her later,” said Carol with a tilt of her head, implying there was more to this “chat”. “All you have to do is stand there and look scary.”

“I don’t look scary,” you frowned.

“But you’re tall,” said Carol. She wasn’t wrong. “You just have to stand there and look intimidating for a few minutes. That’s it.”

“Really? That’s it? That’s all it is then, you’re just going to chat?”

“Well,” Carol gave a thin smile, “that will be up to her, won’t it?”

—–

Carol had you wait in the salon with the twins before Reznikov arrived. You were shocked to see CO Hellman unlock the bars; the look on his face made it clear he knew exactly what he was facilitating. “I’ll go get her,” said Carol, ducking out of the room.

You waited silently, avoiding the stares of the twins. With a jolt, you noticed the sharp instruments arranged on the tray in front of you. She wasn’t planning to….?

Hellman returned a moment later with Red and Carol in tow. “You’re going to leave us in here?” asked Red, nervously.

“You telling me how to do my job?”

Carol didn’t so much as glance at you as she took a seat in one of the chairs, crossing her legs comfortably. “Have a seat.” The way her eyes met Red’s, the coolness in her tone, it was the stuff of legends. It was clearly how she had gained her followers.

You realized you had never seen this side of Carol in full effect before; even prior to the start of your relationship, she had always addressed you with a certain softness, a fondness. Knowing how you felt about violence, Carol hadn’t ever asked you to sit in on the gritty parts of her business. At least until now.

Of course, you had watched her act with vitriol many times, being within earshot when she scolded Badison. Initially you had thought of that differently; everyone would likely say such uncivil things to the boisterous blonde if they thought they could get away with it.

There was also the matter of her original crime. You had read about these kinds of women, women like you, who would date psychopaths and criminals, forever hungry for the sharp taste of danger. But Carol wasn’t like that either. Simply put: so many people are uncentered, ungrounded, tumbling through life without a sense of direction or self. Carol was different. She moved with a certain stability, a solidness that would not waver when times grew tough.

But stability requires seriousness, and when Carol was alone with you, that faded away as well. You could see who she was underneath - the silly, dorky girl with the big glasses. Not that you could ever tell her that; she obviously prided herself on being able to disguise the part of herself that everyone else had picked on.

Carol swiveled away from Red as the twins began to prepare to work on her hair. You breathed a sigh of relief; violence had been avoided for now. You found yourself transfixed as she leaned back and unwrapped a lollipop, unable to stop staring. But it wasn’t a visual clue you were fixated on - it was something invisible, something that could only be felt.

It was power, raw and pure. And it was intoxicating.


End file.
